While I shut my eyes for the very last time
The coffee poured into Mortimer's cup like cough syrup. There was no steam. He looked up at the waitress hoping to gain some sort of explanation with his disapproving stare but she would not meet his gaze. Mortimer could tell that while she worked she held her apathy closer to her than the coupons for Hamburger Helper in her breast pocket.
He sipped the cold burnt coffee and then spit it back into his cup. He looked down at his pie and realized that it would be rude to spit that back on his plate, so he didn't risk it.
The bell that warns of customers dinged and Mortimer's head shot up. It was a regular that called the waitress "Abby" instead of the "Abigail" that was on her name tag.
"Mornin' Bill." Abigail responded leaving her indifference at Mortimer's table.
Who are these people?
When would he get here?
Mortimer watched as Abigail poured Bill a cup of coffee that steamed. She served him a slice of pie from the same pie Mortimer got. He watched as Bill took a bite.
"I swear Abby, this pie gets better everyday."
"Tell it to Wes, not me."
What kind of names are these?
Abby, Bill and Wes?
Why would he want to meet in a diner like this?
Mortimer thought at least he knew that the pie was safe. He took a bite and wondered when the flavour would start. He swallowed the bland pie and wished he had coffee to get rid of the resolute texture.
Who the fuck are these people?
If the pie gets better every day Mortimer dreaded to think of the pie when this place first opened.
He couldn't stand this anymore; the small town flirting and coy passivity of it all. He got up and started walking towards the door, pulling a cigarette from it's ripped package. If that bastard doesn't show up by the time Mortimer is finished this cigarette --
"Mortimer."
He had been staring at the ground and walked right past him. He stared blankly at him.
"I'm going out for a smoke."
"Those things will be the end of you."
"I doubt that."
"Have a cup of coffee first."
"No thanks."
Mortimer walked outside and the man followed. He was bald but wore a faded hat so you wouldn't be able to tell, though it was clear by the way he wore it. He dressed like he was trying to look inconspicuous, but his wind breaker tucked into denim jeans made him stick out like a sore thumb.
"Where's the fanny pack?" Mortimer asked him without any pretense of humour.
"You could at least look at me while you critique."
Mortimer turned around and looked him from head to toe.
"You look like shit Dad."
"You don't look half bad yourself."
Mortimer turned away again and watched the vacant highway like it was a horizon.
"It was good to hear from you Mortimer."
"I wouldn't have called if I didn't need to."
"I know... it was still... it's nice to see you is all."
Mortimer turned to face the man.
"What kind of a fucking place is this to meet? Do you actually eat here or something?"
"No, I just saw it when I was driving by. It looked humble."
"It's the most arrogant shit hole I've ever been in."
"Are you sure it's the place that's arrogant Mortimer?"
"Don't fucking start."
Mortimer finished his cigarette and stepped on it. He looked up at his father.
"I'm not going back in there."
"Fine."
"My car's over here."
"Fine."
Mortimer got into the drivers side while his father got in next to him. They sat for a very long time, neither one of them saying anything, just watching the desert. A truck rolled by and Mortimer's father spoke.
"You know, when I was on the road--"
"Shut up."
Mortimer's father looked at him, more hurt than surprised.
"I'm not in the mood for nostalgia."
The silence that followed was filled with ghosts.
"When will you forgive me?"
Mortimer turned to his dad, his eyes wet.
"You're a son of a bitch. Have you forgiven yourself? Have you forgotten what you did to her? Dad? Have you?"
"Your mother was unhappy for a long time."
"Bullshit! Just shut the fuck up!"
"Mortimer please."
A tear ran down Mortimer's face as he turned towards the desert.
"This was a mistake. Get out."
His father didn't move.
"Get out you selfish prick!"
His movements were slow as he opened the door and stepped out of the car.
His father stood 6 feet away from the car and watched his son cry with his head on the steering wheel for the only woman they had ever loved. He heard sirens coming from down the highway. He looked at his son and wanted to jump in the car and tell him to drive, tell him to put the pedal to the floor. They could start a new life... or at least he could help his son start a new life.
He was a coward though, he had been his whole life. He turned his back on his son and started walking toward the diner. Abigail was peering through the window at Mortimer.
His father entered the diner and started towards a table.
He turned back towards the prying waitress.
"Abby, can I get some coffee please?"
He sipped the cold burnt coffee and then spit it back into his cup. He looked down at his pie and realized that it would be rude to spit that back on his plate, so he didn't risk it.
The bell that warns of customers dinged and Mortimer's head shot up. It was a regular that called the waitress "Abby" instead of the "Abigail" that was on her name tag.
"Mornin' Bill." Abigail responded leaving her indifference at Mortimer's table.
Who are these people?
When would he get here?
Mortimer watched as Abigail poured Bill a cup of coffee that steamed. She served him a slice of pie from the same pie Mortimer got. He watched as Bill took a bite.
"I swear Abby, this pie gets better everyday."
"Tell it to Wes, not me."
What kind of names are these?
Abby, Bill and Wes?
Why would he want to meet in a diner like this?
Mortimer thought at least he knew that the pie was safe. He took a bite and wondered when the flavour would start. He swallowed the bland pie and wished he had coffee to get rid of the resolute texture.
Who the fuck are these people?
If the pie gets better every day Mortimer dreaded to think of the pie when this place first opened.
He couldn't stand this anymore; the small town flirting and coy passivity of it all. He got up and started walking towards the door, pulling a cigarette from it's ripped package. If that bastard doesn't show up by the time Mortimer is finished this cigarette --
"Mortimer."
He had been staring at the ground and walked right past him. He stared blankly at him.
"I'm going out for a smoke."
"Those things will be the end of you."
"I doubt that."
"Have a cup of coffee first."
"No thanks."
Mortimer walked outside and the man followed. He was bald but wore a faded hat so you wouldn't be able to tell, though it was clear by the way he wore it. He dressed like he was trying to look inconspicuous, but his wind breaker tucked into denim jeans made him stick out like a sore thumb.
"Where's the fanny pack?" Mortimer asked him without any pretense of humour.
"You could at least look at me while you critique."
Mortimer turned around and looked him from head to toe.
"You look like shit Dad."
"You don't look half bad yourself."
Mortimer turned away again and watched the vacant highway like it was a horizon.
"It was good to hear from you Mortimer."
"I wouldn't have called if I didn't need to."
"I know... it was still... it's nice to see you is all."
Mortimer turned to face the man.
"What kind of a fucking place is this to meet? Do you actually eat here or something?"
"No, I just saw it when I was driving by. It looked humble."
"It's the most arrogant shit hole I've ever been in."
"Are you sure it's the place that's arrogant Mortimer?"
"Don't fucking start."
Mortimer finished his cigarette and stepped on it. He looked up at his father.
"I'm not going back in there."
"Fine."
"My car's over here."
"Fine."
Mortimer got into the drivers side while his father got in next to him. They sat for a very long time, neither one of them saying anything, just watching the desert. A truck rolled by and Mortimer's father spoke.
"You know, when I was on the road--"
"Shut up."
Mortimer's father looked at him, more hurt than surprised.
"I'm not in the mood for nostalgia."
The silence that followed was filled with ghosts.
"When will you forgive me?"
Mortimer turned to his dad, his eyes wet.
"You're a son of a bitch. Have you forgiven yourself? Have you forgotten what you did to her? Dad? Have you?"
"Your mother was unhappy for a long time."
"Bullshit! Just shut the fuck up!"
"Mortimer please."
A tear ran down Mortimer's face as he turned towards the desert.
"This was a mistake. Get out."
His father didn't move.
"Get out you selfish prick!"
His movements were slow as he opened the door and stepped out of the car.
His father stood 6 feet away from the car and watched his son cry with his head on the steering wheel for the only woman they had ever loved. He heard sirens coming from down the highway. He looked at his son and wanted to jump in the car and tell him to drive, tell him to put the pedal to the floor. They could start a new life... or at least he could help his son start a new life.
He was a coward though, he had been his whole life. He turned his back on his son and started walking toward the diner. Abigail was peering through the window at Mortimer.
His father entered the diner and started towards a table.
He turned back towards the prying waitress.
"Abby, can I get some coffee please?"